


Heatstroke

by Kato (WritersCoven)



Series: The Emetophobic Poodle Series [5]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Before Bri meets Freddie, But he's still a good boyfriend, Emetophobic character, M/M, Poor emetophobic Bri, Roger's learning, Smile Era, What were outfits then, emeto, heatstroke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-30 08:03:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19848982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritersCoven/pseuds/Kato
Summary: The first time Brian May ever told anyone he was emetophobic, it was when he was still with Roger. He hadn’t meant to. It was an accident.~Emetophobic Brian during the earliest days of Smile, before he met Fred, the love of his life.





	Heatstroke

**Author's Note:**

> **Hey loves! I know a few people were curious about the Smile era days of Maylor in my emetophobic poodle series, so here you go. Here's one to satiate your hunger for a bit :)**   
>  **I hope you all enjoy! And remember to comment and kudos for your lovely emetophobe author slave, Kato~**
> 
> **Hey, this part of my little note is new! And it's going to be everywhere for a little while: Your beloved Kato was hacked darlings, multiple times! Her stuff was removed, even her pseud deleted, her passwords repeatedly changed. It's been a mess. Someone wants to shut me down! But we aren't going to let that happen, are we darlings? Nope! So,**   
>  **Enjoy the reupload! Kato out! xoxo**

The first time Brian May ever told anyone he was emetophobic, it was when he was still with Roger. He hadn’t meant to. It was an accident.

They had been warming up for a show they were doing for Smile that day. It was hot and humid, but Brian insisted on wearing his flashiest costume. He had to look the part, after all. Both Tim and Roger had warned him against it, but Brian didn’t listen. He liked the layers, he liked the color combination and the flash that came with the dangling, extra bits on his clothing. It was eye-catching. People would notice him, and if they noticed him, they would notice Smile.

It started with a headache. Brian shrugged it off, drank some water, and kept going. The show was going to be a huge success, he could just feel it. Roger had watched him chug back first one water bottle, which quickly led to five others, in unspoken concern for his boyfriend.

When the dizziness set in, Brian knew that something was wrong. Somewhere along the way, he had seriously fucked up. Crazy with fear, he had debated going to Roger for help. He felt fuzzy and far away, but he could still hear Roger rocking out on the drums nearby. He knew that he was still safe, even when he felt like absolute shit. No. Brian believed he could do the show, that he was perfectly alright.

That belief broke the moment that the muscle cramps kicked in-- specifically, the stomach cramps. Stomach cramps, especially with dizziness and a headache, were not a good sign. Quite the contrary, they were a very, very bad sign. Nearly dropping his guitar, Brian stumbled over in the direction of the drums, navigating more by sound than sight. He barely had a hand on the edge of part of Roger’s drum set when two firm hands were grabbing him, pulling him away. Pulling him to shade.

“Bri, love?” Roger asked, setting him down in the grass. His call was met with glassy, confused eyes.

“Don’ feel well, Rog,” was his slurred reply.

Roger, at this point, had decided that water was the much-needed solution to whatever ailment had befallen his boyfriend. “I’ll be right back, Bri. Okay?”

“‘Kay.”

It didn’t take Roger long to get the water, but when he returned to the tree he had left Brian under, he found it empty. Panicked, Roger proceeded to search the venue area for any signs of his boyfriend, only to turn up empty at the end of every search. Finally, as a last resort, Roger checked the small, dingy restroom cubicles, where he heard soft, whimpered sobs coming from the stall farthest from the door. “Bri?” he called, and the sobs died down.

“Bri, love?” Roger tried once more, approaching the locked stall. He pressed his knuckles against the door, but didn’t knock. Instead, he let his bones trail the cool metal, making a faint scraping noise.

Sniffling. “Rog?”

“Yeah,” Roger responded, relief flooding his voice. “It’s me. How you doing?”

“Don’t feel good,” he had sobbed. “Don’t feel good at all.”

“Alright. It’s okay.”

“No!” Brian cried. “No, it’s not!” He sounded so panicked, so helpless, that Roger decided to do something he wouldn’t have done for anyone else in the world-- especially not in the outfit he was dressed in on that day. Roger Taylor crawled underneath a stall door, dragging himself on the dirty floor of a public restroom, to get to his boyfriend.

Brian wouldn’t even look at him. His face was red, his cheeks tearstained, and he kept trying to scrub his nose clean with the back of his hand. Roger took Brian’s chin in his hand and tilted his face up, examining his boyfriend thoroughly before grabbing some of the toilet paper from the roll and swiping it over Brian’s face. “You need to calm down, Bri. It’s no big deal. We’ll take care of it.”

_This, Roger would later learn, was a mistake to say._

Brian pulled away from him, slamming his back against the wall and scrambling back into the corner between the wall and the toilet bowl. Roger could only imagine the horrors that bowl had seen, and wondered what it was about to see. Brian’s crying continued, only picking up in intensity. His chest was heaving with frantic, shallow, sob-laden breaths. “Love, what’s wrong?”

“S’k,” Brian slurred.

Roger shrugged in reply. _Another mistake he would learn later on not to make._ “It’s not a big deal, Bri.”

Brian gagged, covering his mouth with one hand. He didn’t move towards the toilet seat, not even when a second gag roared through him with enough force to make his body lurch. Roger had watched, trying to figure out what the deal was.

“Bri. You need to actually lean _over_ the seat. Otherwise, it’s just going to get on you.” 

“No,” he whimpered.

“No?”

“Not gonna get on me, ‘cause ‘s not gonna happen.”

Roger didn’t like the slurs. Brian wasn’t drunk. He hadn’t had any drugs (that Roger was aware of, anyway). That meant he was really fucking sick. He also didn’t understand the big deal about being sick. It happened, then you felt tremendously better and moved on. At least, this was the way that Roger looked at it.

Another gag, this one bringing up a small spit of bile. Roger sighed, grabbing more toilet paper. “Will you please lean over, damn it! I don’t even care if it’s on the fucking floor at this point, just not on you.”

Brian had started shaking then. His eyes were wide, his cheeks stained with fresh tears. His lip quivered out, even though he was chewing it with all of his might. Roger brushed the paper over Brian’s chin and sighed. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Can’t get sick.”

“It’ll make you feel better,” Roger urged. Brian shook his head stubbornly. “Alright, I’ll bite, love. Why can’t you get sick?”

“I--” He couldn’t explain it. He didn’t even know the word for it. Not at that point in time. He swallowed, hugging his arm to his abdomen and pleading not to throw up. “I don’t know,” he sobbed.

“You don’t know?”

Brian shook his head. “Scared.”

Roger nodded. Now he was getting somewhere. It wasn’t very far, but he was getting somewhere at least. “Okay, why are you scared?”

Brian’s response was a sudden, body-jumping retch. He heaved, coughing up most of the water he had been drinking earlier. Again, not anywhere near the actual toilet, despite being curled up in the restroom. Roger sighed.

“Right. You’re going to need new clothes, love.”

_Roger would learn this lesson fastest of all: Don’t point it out when he happens to ruin something._ Brian took one look at his outfit and cried harder, trying to force himself even further away from Roger. If Roger didn’t love the damn man, he wouldn’t have put up with anymore of this shit. It was Brian, though, and so he scooted closer as well, reaching out to pull the man out of the dirty crevice. “Come here. It’s alright. You’re okay.”

“Not okay…”

“Yes, okay. I’m right here. We’re going to get through this, you and me. Okay, love? Now come out of there, so I can get that shirt off.”

_The first right thing he must have said that day, because Brian slowly lifted himself out of the crack and moved nearer to Roger._ In response, Roger lightly pulled the outfit off, stripping Brian down to almost nothing, and guided the man over the toilet. “Still sick, love?” he asked, kissing Brian’s neck.

The response he got was a low moan, followed by a swift, “Don’t touch me.” This was, in turn, followed by an empty dry heave. Finally, over the toilet. Nothing came up, but at least they were making progress on Brian’s aim.

Roger had waited, then, until Brian sat back, shivering, whimpering, and looking like a drowned cat dragged through hell. Roger hesitantly popped the seal on the water bottle, offering it out to his boyfriend. “Drink?”

Brian shook his head, stubborn. “Can’t. Won’t stay down.”

“But you don’t know that,” Roger had pointed out.

Brian remained stubborn. “Won’t stay down, can’t have it.”

“Love, you need to hydrate. Do you want it to get worse?”

_Trigger words. Roger learned that one in the third episode he saw._

Brian shut down. He didn’t look at Roger, he didn’t speak to Roger. He barely even moved. Even his tears, which had flown freely up until this point, seemed to dry if only slightly. Nothing Roger tried would work. Brian wouldn’t respond.

And then Roger had an idea. Very carefully, very lovingly, he placed his hand on the back of Brian’s neck, soaking up the warmth radiating off of the area. It was a comfort Roger’s mother used to give him when he was ill, and his last hope for handling Brian.

By some grace of God, it had worked. Brian fell back into the touch, exhausted, and accepted the water bottle. He sipped from it tenderly, cautious, but at least he was drinking out of it. They were making even greater progress. Roger sighed, smiling down at his boyfriend, and stayed there while Brian relaxed and cooled off.

That evening, they didn’t do their show. Brian could have probably performed by the time of the event, but once word had gotten back to Tim of the episode, it was immediately cancelled. Roger thought that might have been for the best, although he didn’t say this to a ranting Brian at the time.

It had been the first of many times Roger took care of his ill, emetophobic boyfriend. Long after their breakup, long after Brian found Fred and absolutely fell in love-- shattering Roger’s heart in the process-- he continued to be there, the best friend who always knew what to do.

Because that was the thing about Roger Taylor. He _always_ knew exactly what to do for Brian. That would never change.

**Author's Note:**

> **Awe, how cute! If the demand is popular enough, I'll do another one about him telling Freddie ^_^**   
>  **Thanks for reading, dears!**
> 
> **Hey, this part of my little note is new! And it's going to be everywhere for a little while: Your beloved Kato was hacked darlings, multiple times! Her stuff was removed, even her pseud deleted, her passwords repeatedly changed. It's been a mess. Someone wants to shut me down! But we aren't going to let that happen, are we darlings? Nope! So,**   
>  **Enjoy the reupload! Kato out! xoxo**


End file.
